5 February 2025 │ Friendship

Memory. A word, a function of the brain, and a feeling.
A documented story, false or true,
I begin this poem with my memory of You.
The present you is merely a stranger to me,
A falsely created version of you waiting to be free.
I’m haunted by a shadow representing You from the past,
One I was holding on to, begging it to last.
As time passes by, I begin to comprehend
That our bond and understanding have come to an end.
I hold on tight to someone who no longer exists,
To keep this stranger in my life, my brain insists.
I long for nothing more than a memory.
A memory of who someone used to be.
How long does it pass before we recognize the strangers in our lives?
A memory is all I will have of You,
Someone, once, I possibly knew.